A Splintery Cross
by MacDixon Love
Summary: The brother's and their joyful personalities affect the newest member of their little family. Liss manages to fit in with the boys, but can she handle it when both brothers make advances on her? At the same time. The MacManus boys only know how to share things. Not smutt. Rating for language and possible future chapters. Murphy/OC/Connor
1. The Damned Radiator

**A/N: so I lost this notebook over the summer and I decided I'd post the story in it, which of course is still in progress, ha-ha! I like where this story is progressing to.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Boondock Saints characters, story lines, or super sexy accents.**

**Warnings: MacManus mouths, violence (it's BDS, you can handle this)**

A Splintery Cross.

Chapter 1 The Damned Radiator.

I had just escaped being handcuffed to a radiator the first time I ever laid eyes on Boston's most wanted vigilante criminals: The Saints. It's a funny story how I ended up here, handcuffed and bloodied. Certainly not funny ha-ha, but funny ironic.

My head was starting to spin and the room shifted as if we were out to sea I couldn't say why my equilibrium was so off, maybe it was blood loss, maybe the throbbing, dripping head wound I had been dispensed, or maybe it was the sickening smell of onions and body odor, a cocktail of all things vile. Through my haze all my mind could register was the gentle drip sound of my own blood trickling down my metal shackles from the torn skin that was once my wrist. I could hear accented laughter muffled by the door , along with a stream of angry words in a language I couldn't understand. I assumed it was Russian, but that didn't matter. They were evil men, no matter their decent.

My mind slowly stopped its confusing shifting and spinning which was a relief. I didn't like not being able to think clearly, it was a very scary thing to me. I forced myself to inhale a calming breath, doing my best to ease my over actively twitching nerves. Panicking would only suit end my life sooner. I had to focus, assess my surroundings.

Smallish room. High ceilings. Two windows, one broken out. fire escape. Peeling green paint. No furnishing. One door wood floors. Hear shuffling. Cards? Tobacco. Smells thick like cigars. Bloody radiator.

God, was all that blood mine?! I inched away from the damn thing as far as my bindings would allow me. I realized I hadn't been the first person chained to this blasted radiator. Most of the blood was dry and fading, where mine left a sticky coating down just one side. I began to feel woozy again, my head filled with thoughts of how the only thing the world would ever have to remember me by will be a faded red stain on a rusty radiator. "Here lies blood stain 57," I murmured, "Sure she had a shitty life," I spat my faux eulogy bitterly at the ceiling just a bit peeved at the almighty.

I let out a thick sigh. Doubting Him would get me nowhere. Surely He knew what He was doing. I knew from first hand experience. With my free hand- the one not shackled to a dammed radiator- I reached for my rosary, only to remember where it had gone. The Russians had stripped me of my most prized possession and the one thing I had to remember the woman that had been the closest thing to a mother I had. I felt the loss hard, my heart sinking somewhere near my filthy bare feet. I missed the warmth of the small silver pendant against my skin. My hand remained over my heart though, it was strange, not being able to grip an embodiment of my faith as I prayed to the wood-bare ceiling. I thanked God for the blessings He had given me thus far in life. Apologizing for not being stronger for Him, but made sure He understood that I would never give up or die without fighting tooth and nail. But that wasn't exactly my choice if the almighty wanted to greet me, so be it, I'd be delivered after a long, painful fight. And lastly I prayed so hard that maybe, just maybe He'd have mercy and send an angel or two my way. I knew it was asking a lot but hey, when handcuffed to a bloody radiator, with murderous slap happy Russians in the next room, you get a bit desperate.

I had been so wrapped up in my praying that I didn't notice the sudden change in the sound of the next room. No more card shuffling or boisterous laughing or foreign curses. Just silence for a moment. Then loud bloodcurdling screams mixed with war cries. What had at first thought was blood pumping through my tired brain was actually the crack of gunfire. Lots of it.

I could hear all sorts of firearms being let lose. Most sounded irregular, rapid, a bit lost. The frenzied fire died slowly, leaving only two guns left. So in sync. One, two, one, two. Maybe it was one gun pulled by a quick triggered finger. Had a rivaling crew come in and killed the Russians? I knew the last gun didn't belong to a Russian, they were loud and disgusting. I was sure they would shout constant curses in victory or defeat. I had my questions but they were quickly silenced in my head as the old door knob trembled then released, allowing a meaty paw to pass through the paint scarce doorway. The man was just as beefy as his disgusting hand, he limped though the entrance, barely managing to shove the door closed with one hand, the other being held close over an oozing wound in his abdomen.

I recognized this guy as the man who had brought me to this place and a bitter smile played across my pained lips. I had always been a bit of a silver tongue. "Hey, commie! How ya doin?" I feigned concerned, figuring the consequences wouldn't matter. If this big Russian didn't end me certainly the rivaling gang would. "Just kidding! I don't give a crap!" he was standing over me now something grasped in his fist, unwilling to find out what I punctuated my last word with a harsh kick to his insanely solid shin. He went down quickly due to being previously wounded, his body tumbling hard to the old wood floor, the contents of his hand falling to my lap. HOLY SHIT. Resting in my lap was a small key. A handcuff key.

I sent a zealous prayer of thanks to the almighty as I quickly shoved metal into metal, reveling at the small click my shackles made before releasing my worn hand. My celebrations short lived and quickly cut off as I heard footsteps, boots, heading my direction. I'll be damned if I'm about to be trussed up and stuck to another fucking piece of porcelain ever again.

I fight my way to my feet ignoring the dull screams my aching bones and banged up head present. I stumble quite a bit having to use the wall for support and grimacing at the bloody smear of a handprint my struggles give me. My foot barely leaves the window sill, crossing into the shadowed night when the door in the room behind me bursts open.

A sort of morbid curiosity kept me there on the fire escape so close to the freedom of the night's chill air, but I had to stay. Had to see.

Two men had entered the nightmare of a room I had just freed myself from. There was a striking resemblance between the two, and though I couldn't clearly see their faces I knew they were both quite handsome. They stood over the moaning figure of the last Russian, disgust visible in their features- shoulders pulled taut under their thick wool pea coats, jean clad legs moving viciously to nudge the man into his final kneeling position.

My heart pounded filling my ears with the sound of my own pulse. It was loud I feared my ignorant saviors would turn their firearms on me, having heard my heart from way out here. The second they entered the room I knew the Russian was a dead man, but they confirmed it as they swiftly raised their pieces to the back of the kneeling man's head. The move came natural to them, with so much ease, they were in perfect unison as they murmured something over the dead man's pleas and curses. The two men's lips moved in perfect sync, not a millisecond lost between the two. Their muscles released welcoming the words like greeting an old friend, but with enough reverence that I realized it was actually a prayer.

"And Sheppards we shall be, for Thee, my Lord, for Thee," the Russian stilled, halting his desperate words.

"Power hath descended forth from thy hand, so that our feet may swiftly carry out thy command," the Russian began sobbing, tears dropping to the floor mingling with his and my blood. My stomach clenched, disgusted that I felt no pity for the kneeling man.

"And we shall flow a river forth to Thee, and teeming with souls shall it ever be, in nomine patri, et filli," twin hammers cocked into place, "et spiritus sancti." Two silenced shots were fired as one, delivering the man that had been dead from the start. And I watched. I wasn't disturbed at seeing a mans head blown in. Nor by his blood and brain to be splattered on the floor. I simply sat there. My limbs frozen in place, my bare feet screaming against the colder than ice metal of the fire escape.

The strangest thing of all- and hell I had had a strange day- was that I felt comfort. These two men, they came for me. I was certain God had answered my prayer and sent forth these two handsome avenging angels. He hadn't abandoned me.

I watched the two angels in the room for a moment longer. The tension had left their bodies as the bullets had left their barrels, they crossed themselves and rolled over the body of the Russian. I watched in mild confusion as one man crossed the dead mans arms over his chest while the other darker haired man rummaged through his pockets giving a victorious smirk as he placed two shiny objects- pennies?- on the man's closed eyelids.

The serious air left the room as the darker haired man socked the other in the bicep, "Oi, ya git, we almost didn't have enough pennies." I was taken aback by the very un-angel like behavior and the crude Irish accent. Angels weren't Irish. I wasn't even sure angels spoke. Didn't they just sing or play harps or something?

The darker skinned, lighter haired man gave the other a hard look- which only made the other's lopsided, goofy grin widen- while rubbing his now tender bicep, "Jesus, Murph!" Murphy was the darker haired man, I made note, "Ye nearly took me arm off!" he whined, his accent just as thick and Irish as the other's "Pennies are yer job anyhow."

"Dah Lords name!" Murphy playfully chided in a sing-song voice as his only response and pinched the lighter on the hand, leading to a swatting match between the two.

It was then I decided to leave. My feet were frozen stiff and my entire body was trembling in the frigid Boston-in-fall air. My thin fitted tee and too big basketball shorts doing nothing to fight the cold. It wasn't just the cold I needed to escape from. The two bumbling men may have unwittingly saved my life, but they could be just as potentially dangerous as the Russian men who had locked me up -despite the comfort I felt to wards these two not angels.

Their not-so-angel behavior had surprised me a bit. I had just been so certain that they were real angels coming to save me directly from Heaven. When actually they were just men, probably in the mafia, who had obviously killed before, and with a frightening amount of ease.

As I once again forced my aching, throbbing joints to listen I heard a mumbled question about handcuffs, it was definitely time to go.

I hadn't known how high up the floor of the building was or how difficult it was to navigate a fire escape until the moment it seemed the most important. My body was hardly in any shape to be climbing down the rickety rust coated structure. Will being my only drive. But, oh did it hurt. I had to force myself forward, calling myself cruel names, thinking up some pretty elaborate insults, doing my best to motivate me forward like I saw coaches do on television once or twice. That did a surprisingly good job, getting me so far as the base of the structure until I nearly collapsed under all the pain.

My wrist throbbed, surely leaving a trail of blood behind me, my sides ached with even the most delicate inhale, no doubt the now dead Russian bastard had bruised my ribs fairly well, my stomach felt like it would suck itself inside out, no idea when the last I ate was, but that was a lesser worry. My head hurt the most. Skull pounding, felt like it was nothing but bits of shrapnel, shoving into my brain with my every heart beat. The back of my eyes stung, some miniature football player mistaking them for his ball no doubt. Stupid head wounds.

I grit my teeth in hope it would sate even the smallest amount of the pain to no avail. Actually, it made it that much worse. About to fall over in the alley, stone dead, I heard a rustlings behind me, followed by a sleepy moan.

"Christ almighty." I spat, today just had to get better and better. With a new surge of barely conscious will, I managed to hobble away from the now approaching homeless man. He smelt of piss, and I could just make out the glint of a pocket knife. Whoop-di-fuckin-do.

Shoving off the wall I half ran, half fell out of the mouth of the alley. I was barely able to turn my head away form my almost assailant as I smashed into a brick hard mass of muscle and bone. That nearly did me in. I had slammed into Murphy which made him careen into the other man, the three of us staring dumbly at one another, sprawled out on the damp, chilly sidewalk.

It was in that second that my overdriven nerves and my injured brain decided to betray me. Unconsciousness swooped its ugly wing over me and I was out like a light, skull nearly hitting concrete, though saved by a pair of strong sure hands.

_And Sheppards we shall be._

I woke up with a start, the day's events crashing down on me like a column of sea water. My nerves automatically went back into overdrive, my entire body breaking into a panicked sweat, and above all the feeling of pure boundless fury towards myself reigned through my skull. I'm such a stupid fucking idiot. I pointlessly chastised myself. So close to freedom. I was so close. There was though, this nagging voice. From some dark corner of my brain taunting me, "What's freedom to you?" its sickening voice sent chills through me, "You have nothing in this world, you lost all of that long, long ago." I bit down on my tongue making the pain allow me to refocus, shut out pointless thoughts. Freedom did matter, and I most certainly would have mine.

Like so many times before, I opened my eyes to a strange new room, with strange new smells, and most likely strange new men. It was time to evaluate my situation, the same as I had just a few short hours ago.

I was in a big room. It was fairly dark, no light in the room other than a bare bulb dangling over what I could only assume was the kitchen. There was a stove like in a kitchen, a sink as well, and what appeared to by a table though I cold hardly make its shape out due to it being completely covered in all manors of rubbish piled high with stacked, empty, crushed, and spilt beer cans, along with grocery bags filled with God know what. Alrighty the "kitchen" was rather disgusting. I decided, and though I was dying to take a scrub brush to the whole lot, there were more pressing matters at hand. Just at the mouth of the supposed kitchen rested a threadbare, stuffingless ghost of what must have been a couch. And that was somehow even more overflowing with rubbish. I couldn't help but gawk at the haunting mass. What sort of heathens lived here?!

In front the almost couch was a small circular table whose only occupant was a near overflowing ashtray, and in front of the table was an ancient television set, complete with rabbit ears. Directly adjacent the TV was a light blue door, its paint peeling after years of loving abuse. To my left I saw a beat up nightstand housing another ashtray and a bulbless lamp, on the other side of the nightstand was a frameless mattress resting on the concrete floor, a twin to the one I lay frozen atop.

My mental assessment was cut short as the door knob rolled weakly in its socket, a sick sense of déjà vu coiled in my mind. This time though things were different. I found my wrists unbound, no familiar bite of metal on skin or blood flowing down my hand. The only thing to be found on my wrist was clean, soft fabric, delicately wrapped around my scarred flesh. I didn't know what to make of my bandaged hand so I simply relinquished my original ploy of finding a weapon to use against the stranger.

I sat up straight, ready for anything really. Murphy walked though the door first, two heavy looking paper bags in his arms. I was taken back at how innocent he looked with this shit-eating grin plastered on his mug. He must have been laughing at something his brother had said. They had to have been brothers, I was certain of that one, the way they had pulled triggers as one, killing men together as one. How could I think this raven haired man seemed so cute, though I had recently witnessed him ending a life?

The laugh on his face died when he spotted me, but it lived on in his eyes. The brother whose name I hadn't yet learned followed closely to the darker, his smile broadening to match his brother's. Oh, dear, why isn't he just as handsome? My stomach did little flips as my eyes passed between the two men, and I wasn't sure if it was because of fear or attraction. I could feel the embarrassing blush creep up my neck to rest on my cheeks. Oh Christ, am I developing that damn "fall for your captor" syndrome crap? This couldn't possibly end well.

Lighter set his bags along with his brothers in the kitchen, they both faced me, nervous looking and a bit uncertain. No name came a bit closer but after seeing me tense he stopped about five feet away and knelt obviously concerned.

"Lass," he started gently, clasping his hands together, elbows resting on his knees in a somewhat mock prayer, "We aren't gonna hurt ye alright?" he tilted his head, puppy-like. I hated to admit it but with those melt-your-heart-blue eyes I had no doubt in this man. Him or matching baby blues over there could tell me the sky was made of blue bubblegum and that I was a rodeo clown, I certainly couldn't question them.

I opened my mouth to speak but only a rough grating sound came out. Well that was attractive. Blondie waited patiently for a reply, and I hoped for the both of us it would come soon-as I was running out of creative things to call him of course. I tried again, "W-what's your name?" I asked, quite proud of myself, though my voice did eerily resemble a rusty car door opening.

"Connor," Bluer-than-blue eyes-Er, Connor replied happily, raising a thumb over his shoulder to motion to the darker, "And this is my brother-"

"Murphy." I cut him off, more than a little triumphant now. I had taken the two by surprise, Connor's smile growing a bit perplexed.

"What's yer name?" I heard Murph's gruff voice mumble around the cigarette nestled between his thin lips. Oh dear…

"Liss," I muttered, more than a bit wary, causing Connor to offer an apologetic smile on his brother's behalf, who was as of now sauntering in our direction to go plopping down on the other mattress.

"That's a lovely name, Liss," he smiled once again, and I got the feel he was treating me like a child, or a delicate doll. Not exactly an unwanted treatment, but one that certainly grated on my nerves.

I looked between the two, checking them out just as I had the room. They were rather lovely in a masculine, beer soaked, scruff covered sort of way. I noted matching neck and forearm tattoos, then similar ones running along their trigger fingers. Their hair and eyes seemed to be their biggest differences other than their drastically different facial features. Their eyes. Where Connor's eyes were filled with kindness and obvious concern, such a gentility to their every flicker, Murphy was the Moon to his Sun. Murphy's eyes bore into me, making me chill, ice running through my veins where Connor had left a hopeful sort of warmth. But I certainly wouldn't complain. His stare wasn't one that lacked in everything Connor's had had, no, that was all there, but simply presented differently.

It seemed that Murphy was a person you had to coax to you, offer him trust, love, and treats, where Connor would happily bound to your side. Jesus, look at their faces! They're just kids, or puppies! Puppies that killed, I had to remind myself. It was so very shocking to think about after seeing sweet, childish smiles.

"Miss," Murphy spoke up again seemilingly uncertain, "were ye the one cuffed to the radiator?" his eyes darkened with something like rage. Neither seemed to really want the answer , but both needed to hear it.

"Don't call me miss." I automatically replied before my head dropped a bit, the joking air I had unconsciously assumed slipped away from my tongue, "Yes, I was," I could only offer them a rather weak smile as they looked to one another, a very pregnant silence passed between us. I was certain none of us would ever speak again until my stomach decided enough was enough, letting a boisterous rumble bounce off all the walls.

Murphy was struck with a fit of giggles and I couldn't help but join. Thank god for Connor. Being the sensible man he was he made his way to rummage amongst the groceries pulling a red can out the bag. A very familiar red can.

My jaw went a bit slack at that and my mouth turned into a mock Niagara Falls as Connor held the Spaghetti-Os triumphantly in the air. I must have made some sort of needy moaing noise for Murphy was sent into another spasmodic fit of laughter and I joined in. The brothers carried a loving air that deleted all seriousness in a second.

I hadn't a clue how I found myself laughing along with two complete strangers with a murderous tendency but there in the rubbish strewn, smoky dank excuse for an apartment there I was. Giggling to the point of tears. It became very obvious that these guys didn't mean me harm directly, maybe they'd hand me off to their boss or something, I wasn't sure. But I once again felt the comfort rolling off these two in waves.

I wasn't sure if it was Murphy's sweet brown beauty mark that kept attempting to hide in the smile crevice near his lip, or Connor's spiked blondish head bobbing in laughter over where he was heating delicious orange goop for me, but for the first time in so- so, so, so- long I truly felt safe. Yes, I didn't know these men. Yes, I was clueless as to their intentions. Yes, I was in a strange place, so unfamiliar to me. None of that mattered in a moment of laughter and smiles.

**A/N: it's corny, I know! I like it though.**


	2. Food Fight

**A/N: yes, yes, little ones, I do realize this story is a total cliché OC story so far, but hey…. As it seems is my fashion, I have to throw a wrench in things. Enjoy the fluff while it lasts, pretties.**

**Disclaimer: not even going to pretend to own! Only my OC (Liss) is mine and some bits of the plot.**

**Warning: Strong language, alcohol use, cigarettes, hints at possible light twincest!**

A Splintery Cross.

Chapter 2 Food fights.

I sat down warily in the wobbly chair Murphy was holding out to me. The short walk/ stumble over to the kitchen had been a few seconds of hell itself. My brain rammed itself into my solid skull repeatedly, stomach just felt like a gaping, burning hole somewhere in my abdomen, and my legs were a gelatinous excuse for boneless limbs.

Murphy seemed to be aware of my pain and mumbled something to his brother in a strange lilting language. Oh Jeez, thanks guys, yet another group of foreigners excluding me. My bitter self rant was shelved for another time as the overflowing bowl of saucy goodness was laid to rest on the table. Thank the good Lord for Spaghetti-O's and may they rest in peace.

Half the bowl was empty by the time I even realized I had a spoon in my hand. Two sets of true-blues watched me intently, pained smiles rested on nicotine stained lips. More think a bit self-conscious I slowed my ravenous pace and set the bowl aside. If I confined I was certain to hurl.

"So, what do you boys plan to do to me?" I sat back in the chair, crossing my arms, and legs. Might as well skip the nonsense id found my usual brazen tone some how or another.

I didn't want to meet their eyes so my eyes watched the orange little loops slide down the bowl. Neither responded for the longest time t my confusion, forcing me to see what was up. Both men were staring, brows furrowed, ones jaw set the other's agape.

"We said we wouldn't hurt ye.." Murphy was obviously seething at the idea, we. Meant that." his tone was slow and chilling but somewhat reassuring.

"So.." I started, "I don't understand." I was glad they didn't wish me harm, but why was I here?

"Why did you bring me back to your home?" I couldn't avoid the childish tone in my voice or the quake of confusion it held.

"You were hurt." Connor said it wish such finality that It seemed like the most obvious thing in the world.

"S'not like we could leave ye there," Murph snorted battling to light a near dead Zippo grasped tightly near his mouth.

I looked between the two Murphy giving a small cheer when he managed to light the fag and Connor rolling his eyes at his brother. It was all just so… innocent. Good. Kind. I noticed their rosaries- Connor's tucked in his shirt, Murphy's dangling around his chest- and I began to cry.

Maybe it was the feel of freedom , maybe just the events of the past few days finally setting in, but for the first time in a long time, I cried. The first sob escaped my lips and nearly scared the poor boys to death. I did my best to wipe the tears away and bury my hot, painful tears, but I simply couldn't. the brothers looked between each other in horror, Murphy's lit cigarette forgotten and hardly hanging on his lips.

"L-lass, no. Please, please don't cry," Connor pleaded, his hand hovering near my shoulder, uncertain of how to comfort me. I tried to give him a reassuring smile around the wet rivers my cheeks had become, succeeding only in making the tears come faster. On impulse I grabbed his hand, pressing it to my face. The contact with his masculine callused hands was needed and unbelievably calming. I think he smiled but my vision was so shitty I couldn't say for sure.

Murphy's solid hand rested on my shoulder, turning me to him. Were he was kneeling face to face with me. I'm sure he just meant to offer up some kind words and a calming touch, but I needed more. Those true blue deadly weapons of his had me in their spell. He lost his balance when my chest connected with his, arms wrapped tightly around his neck, face hiding in his dark locks. Oops.

Murphy sat there rigidly, legs sprawled under me, one arm supporting him against the floor as the other rubbed reassuring patterns against my sob wrecked back. His was becoming soaked so I sputtered through my tears my apology "It's alright lass," Connor replied from just over my shoulder, "a pretty girl as yerself should never apologize for tackling an Irishman. If ye ask me, Murph there is the lucky one." his eyes shined with laughter.

At first I just stared, turned a bit away from Murphy's hair now looking into his brother's eyes. Then, for the second time that night, I laughed. I laughed until I got the hiccups, sending the boys into a fit of wailing cackles. This was just too much.

My tears finally died away with the laughter, murph brushed away the now drying trails with his capable thumbs then glanced down at his chest and smiled. Strange. I followed his gaze to where my fist was grasped so tightly around his rosary. I hadn't felt the sensation until now but I was so calmed I missed my rosary dearly, but in this moment these would do.

Connor, bless his soul, lifted me from Murphy's arms. I didn't protest, I was exhausted from crying so hard. But my hand did. No matter how I tried I couldn't release the pendant clutched in my hand. Murphy realized this and slipped the loved beads over his head, lending them to me, for just this one night.

I curled up to Connors chest where he had princes lifted me, my heavy head flopping weakly against his shoulder. I was asleep before my body touched the mattress, a prayer of thanks on my lips.

_For Thee, my Lord, for Thee._

Waking up isn't easy. It never is. Why leave your warm comforting bed for a cold hard world and its only promise of work? I had always had problems getting out of bed, even as a child. But as I grew older it got more difficult- as it usually does. This morning though, it was an extra excruciating task. This bed was so warm my body so heavy, the suns rays so nice where they lovingly kissed my back. Something was off though. My brain won against my tired both, forcing me into full awakeness.

My sleep crusted eyes eased open to a world that was not my own. Not my bed, not my home, where was home?

I sat up, aware once again of the unfortunate events that had occurred to me and the very unfortunate event that brought me fortune in the name of twins. I looked over to the opposite bed, finding what I sought.. Two muscular, manly, macho, near naked save for gray boxers, Irishmen curled up in bed together, snoring in unison. It had to have been the funniest thing I had ever seen.

Connor was facing me, his hand just under his head, drool dripping into his palm. I noted Murphy's arm slung haphazardly over his brother, and his legs in a jumbled mass with other man's. they seemed to be very close together, with plenty of room to spare on the mattress. How odd… I shrugged it off and stood needing to stretch. They were brothers, most likely twins, I'm sure they had a bond I could never understand, sibling less as I was.

I made my way over to the kitchen, my feet making flapping sounds over the hard concrete. I didn't know exactly what I had come over her to do other than for the purpose of just doing something, but now as I looked over the mountain of decrepit shit, I knew I had to clean. The boys hadn't made a single peep other than their sweet, constant snores and occasional dream whimper out of Murph or a violent twitch out of Connor. I wasn't too concerned that they would wake up before I was done meditating, based on the new tower of empty beer cans. Once I had filled two bags of just crap laying around every surface, the place didn't look quite so frightening. Its smell was another story.

The apartment's smell was in the range of comic-book store (sort of a mildewy papery smell) a brewery (no doubt from years of spilt Guinness) and cigarette factory (Murphy). Some how this mix wasn't so unpleasant but I felt the need to add the lemon cleanser id found under to sink to the mix, running things into a head spinning overwhelm strong cocktail.

My hands welcomed the familiarly pleasant ache that scrubbing every inch of available concrete I could find brought the only protest coming from my wrist but I could live with the pain. Cleaning like this game me time to think. I had managed to annihilate the rank mildew stench after scrubbing the open shower area with added vigor giving me hope in saving the ramshackle flat. I knew I couldn't eliminate the beer or cigarette smell, that was impossible, I accepted, but after beating the couch cushions and fanning the door, a good amount of it went away and my cleaning was done. The apartment was spotless not a speck of dirt to be found, much to my pride.

Now I had a problem. The boys were still out cold, wrapped I one another's arms. In the hour I had been cleaning they had only switched positions, Connor now cradled Murphy's back to his chest, a hand in the darker's locks. Murphy's fingers brushing the newly cleaned floors. It was very cue, but I had expected them up by now. Nothing for me to do. Need to do something. Anything. I was as tempted to wake them, but just couldn't. they had such completely innocent as they slept, Murphy's hair sticking up at strange angles, and Connor clinging to his brother for all he was worth. No way was I breaking that up.

I decided I would make breakfast, it was the least I could do to make up for them saving my ass then comforting me with hugs and Spaghetti-O's. Searching all the cabinets high and low the only breakfast food-basically only food at all Ii could find was an old box of pancake mix. In the near death fridge I found a few eggs and barely enough milk.

I decided I'd have to get creative with making pancakes and omelets, my specialty. And with the only pan the apartment had to offer, I set to work, first making the pancakes quickly with watered down milk, then onto my mutant omelets. I tended to be one to experiment in the kitchen, having been needed to cook from a young age, I'd learned a thing or two. And though it was risky I decided it was the right choice adding a can of peas and carrots along with ham and a slice of cheese id found in eh fridge, my masterpiece was complete. As the smell wafted to the boys' nostrils Murphy shot straight up, rubbing sleep from his eyes with both hands. I giggled lightly as he waved at me still in a deep daze. The table was set, two mismatched plates pilled high, and a third holding only half as much food. Three mugs of a delicious dark black brew rested in front of each plate, a shiny pack of Marlboros played the table's centerpiece.

I was more than a bit proud as I smiled at Murphy who had stumbled to the table, and flopped into char. It wasn't until he had sucked in the days first toxins from his lit cigarette that he took note of the feast set before him.

"Christ girl!" he beamed, fully awake. "you did this?!" he was bouncing in his seat, making a giggle escape from my lips as I sat down to my own plate, waiting expectantly as he shoveled a mouthful of omelet into his open mouth. I was certainly rewarded, his eyes widened and he moaned into eh fork, cigarette all but forgotten as he shoveled another bit into his mouth. "Conn!" he screamed to the still sleeping form in the bed, making me giggle like a school girl, "Conn, get yer lazy ass up!" he emphasized by tossing the Marlboros in his brothers direction, meeting their mark of Connor's forehead.

"What the fuck?!" the man sputtered as he was so rudely awakened, falling bare skin to concrete, making me wince in empathy around my coffee. Connor stayed on the floor a moment, mimicking his brother in rubbing sleep away from his eyes viciously, "smells different," he slurred as he crossed the room, boxers slipping a little lower on his hips, drawing a blush to my face. "Aye," Murphy piped happily between giant mouthfuls of food, I was glad he liked it. "Liss, here decided tah make up a deelish morning meal," he turned from his brother to give me a little boy grin that tugged at my heart.

Connor still didn't seem to quite grasp it with his sleep addled brain, looking to the food then all around the flat, "Where's all tha shit?" he barked, face turned in shock that Murphy mirrored looking away from his food for the first time.

"I-I'm sorry," I hadn't expected that reaction "I just woke up and had to clean. I didn't mean to mess anything up," I trailed off as Connor's brow furrowed in utter bafflement.

"Yah mean tah tell me that you woke up, cleaned, and fixed us a meal?" he was near whispering, I wasn't sure how he felt about all this, but I didn't want on their bad side.

"Yes," I stuttered meekly. Connor whooped and settled into his own chair where Murphy clapped me on the shoulder a smile on both their faces. I was more than a bit lost, confusing seemed to be these twos forte.

"Not that we don't appreciate it." Connor started, seeing my confusion, "But you're our guest. Ye shouldn't a done that." Murphy finished, exiting the widest of smiles. I found their twin antics strange and amusingly perfect.

The rest of breakfast past with smiles, happy moans and one small argument of omelets versus pancakes. Murphy managed to badger his brother into submission and they settled that omelets were indeed the best of breakfast foods. After long moments of watching them, my curiosity got the better of me, and I had to ask the question I had been eating away at me all morning. Who was older? I could make equal argument on both parts. Murphy seemed more muscled and generally the bulkier of the two, but Connor acted more mature. I couldn't figure it out, and gave in. "So guys," both happily shifted their attention away from their banter, "it may not be my business, but I was wondering which of you is older?" like clockwork they answered in unison "I am" Murphy with an overly smug smirk and Connor with a near snarl. Both turning to the other. Looks like I had opened an old wound.

"Pfft, in your dreams." Murphy snorted.

"Is tha right, pony boy," Connor sneered, eliciting a mild gasp from his twin.

"Fuck ye!" he tossed a cigarette butt to the others face, all I could do was watch in shocked amusement, somehow knowing this fight wouldn't get too out of hand

"No _fuck ye_!" Connor nearly came across the table dragging Murphy from his chair to wrestle one another on the floor, a ball of pale, tan, and tattooed skin, flailing limbs and fists hat didn't quite hit their marks.

"Boys," I called hoping to end their brawl, "Boys" a little louder "BOYS," their rowdiness was making my head pound and I was thankful to se them freeze in place, mirroring each other comically, fists held mid punch. "Now you both are going to stop fighting, give each other a hug, and sit the hell down. BEHAVE" I snarled before I could stop myself. Both men were completely startled, Murphy actually muttered a "Yes, Ma" which made me laugh as the brothers hugged it out and sat civilly in accordance to my snapped demands.

I huffed a sigh as the brothers moped a bit, not really meeting one another's gaze. Maybe I had been wrong to disrupt their fit of 'brotherly love' "So does this happen often?"

"Us taking strange women in, or a breakfast fight?" was Connors quick cunning response, Murph gave him an uncertain look that I couldn't read.

"Well, I meant the second thing, but I would like answers to both question." Murphy became suddenly enthralled by his shiny silver lighter. "No, we don't take in strange women. Yes, we often have a breakfast fight. And a lunch fight and a dinner fight and a snack fight and a-" I raised my hand to cut him off nodding "I get it, I get it, you fight during meals a lot!" the chuckle formed but it never quite made it past my throat, my mood growing solemn. I had questions, they had answers.

"While we're on this whole questions business," I paused, "tell me, why did you kill those Russians?" my voice took on this strangely cold tone, on that could battle Murphy's now staring eyes the two men seated at the table with me were silent making me think I wouldn't get the answers I desperately wanted, but feared. I liked both these men so much. I hardly knew them, we were less than acquaintances really. Yet I was so very drawn to them, and the mysterious aura they carried with them like a thick fog. They seemed deep in some telepathic discussion, Murphy's handsome features marred by a ferocious scowl, Connors nearly blank aside from his pursed lips. The silent conversation ended with a nod from Murphy, they both seemed satisfied with whatever the outcome was. I myself was absolutely lost but once again these were the twins.

Due to the stillness that the small flat had taken over the past few moments, I flinched when Connors large hand reached over the table to me. Seeing my surprise, he smiled an apology that would make anyone's heart palpitate, and continued his action. His fingers brushed the sensitive skin on my neck, and I shivered, nearly moaning. Not a good situation, this was. Me being alone in an apartment with blue and bluer eyes, comforting caresses, and lilting accents. I was doomed.

I prepared myself to bite the metaphorical bullet and go with fate, if they wanted to take me here on the table, I certainly couldn't (wouldn't) stop them. But really it couldn't be that bad. I unconsciously nibbled at my bottom lip, looking into Murphy's smirking eyes, while Connor continued doing whatever he was with my neck. Then he suddenly pulled away, to my surprised, bringing a strong of beads with him. Murphy's rosary.

I hadn't let go of them. Last night but somehow they ended up around my neck. How had I not noticed? Blush swept across my face as I realized that I had mistaken a religious gesture as come form of foreplay. Very smooth Allison.

Connor's gaze was one that demanded attention seemingly to give the information I sought, then forgot. His hand still clutched the borrowed rosary just beneath my chin, his closeness cooling and warming at the same time. "Liss, you have faith, aye? You held on to this all night, and we heard your prayer," he saw my blush resurface and grinned, "Would you believe that murph and I are God's soldiers?" his words were a bit perverse, strange, against what I had been taught. Murphy saw the skepticism in my arched brow so he felt the need to clarify, "Now we aren't a couple of Bible toting do-gooders," he gave a little wink, "No but we do Gods work," both brothers spoke now giving the last statement eerie chill "Destroy all that which is evil, so that that which is good may flourish."

Oh grand, they're crazy. "Uh-huh" I nodded as if I heard this stuff everyday "Now did God speak to you guys?" Connor seemed very enthusiastic to answer an affirmative. "Right. House or cell phone?" I snapped, annoyed they could twist my religion to how they pleased. Connor's head fell and Murphy sort of growled. Maybe I shouldn't have said that, I do have a little problem of not thinking before I speak, and thinking back to the assassination I witness there was a certain holiness to the whole business. The beautiful, lilting prayer spoken in sync. The entire world straining to hear what those two blue eyed angels spoke.

Could god grant such a thing? Something inside me wanted to believe and was crying out with all its might, yelling to all my senses forcing them to succumb. Maybe they weren't angels but they were something. Different. Sacred.

I nodded acceptance just a moment too late, the rosary tumbling from the lighter twins grasp thunking against my chest. He stood and left the apartment, grabbing only his worn jeans on the way, good job. I thought sarcastically to myself.

I looked to Murphy wondering why he hadn't followed suit, but he was smiling to my surprise. What an odd reaction, I had expected to be met with harsh words and stinging blows, but got an apology, "Sorry 'bout Conn," his hand clasped mine on the table running his strong, steady thumb softly over my soft wrist in an utterly amazing sensation. "He takes our work very seriously," he released a worn sigh that could take off years, "We both do. He's just… devoted." he closed his eyes, smiling as if savoring his words as he often did when talking of his brother.

"Will he be okay?" the cold Boston air was nothing to play with, I was a bit worried, but Murphy shook me off.

"Aye, lass, he's a strong man, my brother."

"Stronger than hypothermia?"

"Aye."

Silence fell, awkward but some how light.

"I believe you," I muttered minutes passing "I believe God sent you a mission," hat I had witnessed last night could only be that.

"I know."

"You know."

"Yeah, your eyes give you away."

"What?"

He shrugged, "Can just read em is all," offering his best toothy grin he lifted my hand to his lips, kissing every knuckle. Every kiss left me gasping for air, yet frozen in place as icy pools slipped under my skin, right were it belonged. Leaking into my veins heating things south and chilling things north. The worst part was, this bastard knew exactly what he was doing. He was smirking, dammit. But oh, was it a handsome smirk.

I made to pull my hand away but he wasn't having it, shooting me a glare and tightening his already solid grip. Closer to him, his mouth on my skin, the heat, that tickly scruffle teasing my flesh, those ivory teeth nipping. My world became a complete whirl of everything Murphy, overwhelmingly so. Id never felt this way before, this spinning tilting, blood rush he'd given me, turning me into a sputtering idiot.

Fortunately and unfortunately, Connor chose this second to return bursting into the apartment, bringing a chill with him "Fucking cold!" he yelped as he leaped into a bed, cocooning into a tight bundle. I sighed and met the darker and obviously more dangerous half's laughing gaze. The man gave my hand one last peck, slipped his rosary over my head, and went over to his twin, wrecking the cocoon much to Connor's horror.

There they were, once again grinning stupidly and snuggling to one another like little puppies. I had to admit right there that I was extremely jealous of their relationship. How Murphy could come over, break something, put it all back together and quite a bit of extra. Connor certainly loved it as he nestled deeper into the scratchy wool, huddling under his twin's bare form.

I felt that odd feeling again that these two were different, the one I had felt earlier when I saw them in bed, wrapped together much like now. Maybe they ere more than brothers. As soon as it was whispered a deep blush overtook me completely. How could I possibly think something so perverted? They couldn't possibly be. It just was brotherly love. Maybe not. Why was that idea so appealing? Does forbidden fruit taste the sweetest?

_For Thee my Lord, for Thee._

"Are you sure I can stay?" I couldn't help but ask for the umpteenth time tonight my voice carrying an annoying whine that even I couldn't stand. Murphy was with me at the table where he was sketching happily pictures of smoky rooms, and beautifully built women with thick lips and sultry eyes filled his paper.

"Yes, fer tha trillionth time," he smiled around his cigarette which I leaned to be a near constant with him. Murphy and cigarettes. Connor and booze. Its just how they were different but so complementary.

I hadn't seen Connor since earlier when he'd had a heated conversation in some thick sounding language which led to Connor storming off and (according to Murphy) go drown his anger in a pint.

I was fine with just spending some time with one brother. When they were together I was just so much I left me wired but had such a crash. They were worse than a sugar rush with a possibility of whiplash.

I fiddled with one of Murphy's stray pens, unable to hold back in the temptation drawing held, and it seemed such a suitable outlet. A giant weight fled my shoulders as pen dropped line on white, forming shapes. I let my fingers do their will, sticky ink making its way home.

I had been in an entirely different world until more than midway through my drawing did I realize what it was. I had drawn the brothers as I had first seem them, side by side, peas coats, jeans and angel wings. Really it was inexact likeness I had to admit. Though the ink couldn't capture the vibrancy of their eyes I settled on a lighter shading. I was near perfect, so I finished it off with a sigh and set back, dropping the stylus.

The second I was done however, Murphy, energetic, curious child that he was tore it off the table and took in all it had to offer. He stared for a long while, making me nervous, assessing my lines then giving an approving grunt, and smiling broadly.

"Ye actually made Conn not look like an arse-face" he chuckled and I

"Hey, that's your brother you're talking about!" I hummed quietly my mind slipped back to earlier seductive train of though. Dare I bring that up?

"Aye, and he's the most handsome are face on the green Earth," his smile was loaded but I couldn't read it. My brow shot to the top of my sheer bangs.

"Why are you talking about yourself Murph?" Connor stumbled through the door with a very hairy man before I could respond. The hairy man that was supposing most of his weight on Connor perked up when his eyes set on me.

"Hey, whose the broad?" classy. He was met with a palmed hand to the forehead and he sputtered a correction, "Lady! Lady, I meant lady," I giggled, surprised that Connor would take up for me like he had, and for whatever reason this made Murphy laugh and wrap and arm tightly around my shoulders.

"Easy Rocco," the Irish man sniffed my hair "this one's taken." THE HELL?!

"I am?" I somehow squeaked

"Aye," Murphy winked, and jerked his head in Rocco's direction.

"Oh?"

Connor hushed us both for an announcement, "Alright, alright, everyone" he raised his hands, similar to a rock star trying to quiet a roaring crowed, "Now I been doin' some thinkin' an' I've decided that Liss can stay here as long s she needs." he folded his arms across his chest seeming proud.

"Oh? And was there ever the question that she couldn't stay?" Murphy snorted, arm flexing around me. What had I gotten into?

Connor's proud stance faltered as he struggled for his words, alcohol slowing his thought process, "Look, Murph, I know ye like the a girl an all but the oldest I should-" he was cut off by Murphy's thick shoulder connecting to his gust the tow already mid brawl before they his the floor, the warmth of Murphy's strong arm evaporating and leaving a not so pleasant chill.

Rocco took Murphy's place beside me, shifting uncomfortably as we watched the two men on the floor curses and punch and received punch.

"Its best to let them fight it out until they break something," Roc shifted again, "They always beak something," he smiled form under his densely bearded face, I only hope they didn't break each other.

The fight came to a halt when, as predicted, the bedside lamp came crashing to the floor due to a wild punch from Connor. Both mumbled something as they picked up the pieces, but I had last interest in their hunched forms and b brought my attention back to roc who was holding my drawing head tilted.

"Hey , Murph," he called, "this is some really good shit! Why the fuck didn't you draw me in though? You know we totally kick ass as-" his though process fizzled out giving me a concerned glance.

" It's okay Roc, she know." Connor assured the hairy Italian man.

"And I didn't draw that, look at her." Murphy added.

Rocco looked as overwhelmed as I felt and he about blew a gasket, " what do you mean she knows?!" he began his tirade but the boys quickly stopped him before he could get too out of hand, " roc we didn't have a choice to tell her. She fuckin' saw us do one!"

"Aw, you guys went on a mission without me?" he pouted then redirected, "I mean what do you mean she saw?" he raged, " doesn't that make her a lia-fuckin-ability?"

"Roc, calm down. We saved her from some Russian Mafioso's," Murphy spat, "chained her to a fucking radiator."

"Oh," roc muttered apologetically not meeting my eyes not that I cared, I was mildly pissed, "Sorry, didn't realize…"

I got a sudden craving for hard liquor just then. The three men eyed me warily s I banged through the cabinets, searching for the emergency booze stash I knew they had, coming back with a shout of victory and a mostly full bottle of Jameson's. grabbing four mugs I mad my way over to the table, motioning for the twins and Rocco to join me. Murphy was more than happy to plop down in the wobbly chair beside m, slinging an arm around my shoulders and downing his shot s soon as I poured it. Connor seemed concerned, having forgotten his earlier anger at me. "Do you think that's such a good idea?" motioning wildly at me pouring murph another shot then upturning the bottle into o my mouth , forgoing my mug "How old are ye anyways?! Can't be out of high school yet!" his whining was getting on my nerves though his gorgeous eye did still a lot of it.

"I'm twenty-two, asshole." the whiskeys burn gave my voice a strange sultry tone. I had meant my words as playful but the whiskey made it bite. "you aren't supposed tah ask a lady her age anyhow," I drawled the long hit I took flowing to my brain my slight temper rearing its pretty little head.

"Hey girly we ain't looking fer a fight." Murphy squeezed me against his warm side muscles relaxing. I looking around, feeling like an idiot for getting offended and completely embarrassed. A part of me didn't want the twin's friends knowing me as, "the girl who was chained to the radiator" a name like that just made me sound pathetic.

Rocco's eyes had softened and I believed he was genuinely sorry. I was also certain alcohol had loosened his anger and he was quick to jump. Time to make friends.

Sighing I rerouted all my energy into a beaming smile, throwing a hand in Rocco's direction, "Nice to meet you, my name is Allison. You can cal me Liss," he awkwardly took my hand mumbling his own name. Satisfied I began once again downing the bottle but was halted in my efforts Connor pulling the liquor pas my reaching grasp. "Hey what the hell?"

"Aw, come on Conn she said she's twenty-two that's totally legal to drink," his index finger twirled a stray lock of my chestnut hair, "and for other things." he said it so only I could hear. Why did he keep saying things like that? Was he playing with me? My mouth had fallen agape and my face was certainly a lovely shade of tomato, how charming.

"Right," he sighed, "she's just so," he paused to motion along my body then settled onto his own chair, "**young**!" I couldn't help but giggle then successfully down the bottle to nearly half almost downing and giving Murphy and giggle fit. Soon we were all laughing and drinking, bring merry. I gained a new appreciation for roc as he spilled his heart over his 'druggie bitch ex girl friend the man nearly brought to tears at one point. Both boys were comforting him, and I even smoothed his greasy hair away from his eyes and tilted his head up. Rocco obviously meant the world to his friends and I could see why, though crude, Rocco was a sweet, vulnerable guy.

It was Roc's near beak down that made me decide food was he only remedy for this situation. Getting up from the table was certainly a task, having to remove Murphy's well muscled arm from its firm perch on my shoulder while combating gravity.

"Liss, where are ya going?" the brothers called together in another bizarre twin moment, both raising their hands questioningly, Murphy holding yet another cigarette.

"Don't mind me," I called in a sing song voice, "just keep talking." the boys shrugged it off and Rocco went on with some epic and rather foul mouthed exaggeration of a story that had both twins enthralled.

I was happy to be back in the kitchen, in my element. Drinking with these men had been fun, they had made me welcome, treated me as one of the guys. They had even laughed at my awful attempt at a dirty joke (a dare form Rocco, of course) but I could never be so happy as I was while cooking.

Food in the apartment was still scarce except everything you could can. I decided I would put a stop to that soon. Wit, what? Was I really making decisions on how these boys lived? From my place at he stove I listened to the boys' happy laughter, my hands working in the dough I had put together. They didn't have a woman in their lives k, that much was obvious. These three needed a woman to care for them, mother figure, or otherwise. I could be just he lady to take care of that, and I fully intended to do so.


	3. Splainin'

**A/N: you guys that reviewed get invisible cupcakes! You're all just as sweet as the cupcakes... Okay moving on. Like I said this Is going from fluff to an actual story. Be warned, erratic updating is to be expected.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own the Boondock Saints, please don't hurt me. I bruise easily…**

**Warnings: This is unbeta'd. Uh just MacManus stuff… just read and make the warnings up in your head I don't feel like thinking up witty little jabs at the moment.**

A Splintery Cross.

Chapter 3 Splainin'

"Marry me!" Rocco shouted around another mouthful of food. This was his seventh proclamation of love towards me since I had finished cooking. "I don't care if you aren't Italian, be my bride." he hefted another slice of meat and vegetable pie onto his already overflowing plate, making the twins grumble.

"Jesus Roc, leave us some," Connor chided, "And besides, she's marrying us." he decided with a smirk.

"Yeah, we did see her first," Murphy's voice was barely decodable as he choked down another heaping forkful with a moan. "Damn, Liss," he turned to me when all the pie had vanished "I thought omelets were yer specialty but this," he motioned towards the now barren pan, "Tha was a fuckin' masterpiece." Connor and Rocco nodded their agreement, Connor stealing any remaining juices off the platter with a searching finger.

"It's decided," Connor and Murph chimed together "You're marrying us."

"Oh boys," I clapped mocking excitement, "Proposing so soon?" A devilish grin, "and both of you too. Yes." Both boys got a bit nervous as my voice took on a serious tone, "I'd love to. Now let me call my mother. What date shall we set? A spring wedding perhaps?" both boys had mirroring looks of horror plastered on their faces, it was just too good. I burst out laughing and Rocco joined when Connor grasped his chest and Murphy shockingly lit another cigarette.

"Christ woman, don't joke like that. Chocked Murphy

"The Lord's name dear. But it serves you right. You shouldn't joke about marriage." I crossed my arms triumphantly "You could really get a girl's hopes up, ya know?" Murphy giggled and took my hand in his.

"Well," he punctuated with a kiss to my knuckles, "Maybe I weren't joking." the finger tattooed Aequitas swooped my jaw line, sending chills through my veins, "You'd be a perfect bride Liss, you-"

He was, of course, promptly cut off as my open palm connected to his gorgeous cheek, "Murphy MacManus, I warned you about teasing me." I reprimanded, waggling a finger just above his nose.

"Sorry Liss." he pouted, rubbing his sore cheek, Connor and Roc failing to choke back their peals of laughter.

"But really Liss, you're wonderful." Connor spoke with a smile and his wise eyes shone enchantingly. "Ye mentioned yer mother," he paused, "Being around a bunch of dirty men cant be much fun don't ya think it would be best if we took ye home?" The room grew silent, all waiting my response.

"My mother is dead." I managed without a mournful sigh, " Killed by some mafia douche- er no offense Rocco."

"None fucking taken." he muttered

"Liss, were sorry, we had no idea." the boys looked at each other questioningly. They had done so much for me they at least deserved an explanation.

"Boys, I'll make you a deal." Both twins took on a wary aura but nodded for me to continue "For each thing I tell you about my past, I want to know one thing about your life in Ireland," I had always wanted to travel but never got around to it. These two could be a vacation without the hassles of traveling. I smiled as both boys lit up but quickly cracked down their excitement upon possibly learning about their mysterious houseguest, their faces becoming guarded.

"Oh, I don't know Murph. You think we can tell her?"

"Aye, Conn, but then we'll have to," Murph rose from his seat, "kill her!" Both twins fell upon me, tickling me into submission as I wailed and kicked ineffectively, sending me into a fit of hiccups, succeeding in both twins falling on one another in mirth.

Ten minutes later we had managed to calm down, hiccups and all. Sitting back at the newly cleaned table. Rocco had passed out on the almost sofa, full stomach getting the better of him. Now it was time for stories.

"My full name is Allison Lillian Harper. I grew up in a boring, very normal household. Sure, my house was a lot bigger than some, but my mom was smart enough to teach us how everyone was still equal. We didn't let our wealth go to our heads.

"The only weird thing I can think of about my family is that I had an awful lot of uncles." Both boys looked a little confused, rightly so. "I mean, my father only had one biological brother, but I was always getting introduced to new men claiming to be uncles or cousins. Really, they were coming out of the woodwork. I just figured that my father was a popular man." I trailed off, suddenly entranced by a red blob of stain on the table's leg.

"Liss?" Murph whined, probably wondering why I stopped so suddenly. I'd told them too much of my side anyhow, it was long past their turn.

"Alright. Guys it's your turn." I knew I sounded a bit monotone but remembering wasn't my favorite pastime.

"Well, what do you want to know?" Connor asked, evidently not willing to pester me into continuing like I could see Murphy about to do.

I shrugged noncommittally. Hoping the boys would just hurry up and pull my mood out from it's dark little hole. "Dunno. I'm sure you have some mischievous little kid stories with this one." I waved in the darker's direction.

"Oh, aye, do I have a story!" Connor beamed and launched into some elaborate, half fabricated concoction of a tale. It would be quite entertaining if my mood weren't so sour. "An' this little shite ran away crying! Couldn't get him out of uncle Siebel's hay loft for two hours."

Murphy didn't look as satisfied with the story as his brother hollering, "That's not true Connor! I din'ae cry!"

"Jus' admit it, Murphy, you're an ickle cry babby" he avoided Murphy's fist and told me to move on with the my story before another fight broke out.

"So yeah." I mumbled having next to no idea of how to tell them my story, "I found out my Dad was a big mafia boss on my eighteenth birthday." There was an odd sounding strained quality to my voice that couldn't be healthy. By the faces the brothers were making just leaving at that was not going to happen.

After another heavy, collecting sigh I settled bonelessly into my chair. "On my eighteenth birthday I woke up to screaming." I couldn't meet the boys eyes like the coward I am. "I go down stairs to see what's wrong. Why is my mom screaming like that? Yah know? I wish I hadn't, not that it would have changed anything.

"The first thing I see when I get downstairs is my Uncle France hog tied to the dinning room table. I think he was dead but I didn't really check. My mom was still screaming hysterically." It was creepy how detached I was sounding during all of this. All the emotions I should have been feeling must have been overworked years ago.

"I follow the screams of course. That's just how it works in a horror movie, right? Well, I follow them into the living room where my dad is secured to a chair. My mom was sitting like him only she didn't have a giant bullet hole in her chest…" Both the brothers were breathing heavily for whatever reason getting worked up about my story.

"I guess it was my scream that gave me away but I got knocked out and woke up in the back of a white slaver's truck. So yeah, that was interesting." Connor was appalled while Murphy looked like he would be sick.

"Lass," Murphy was grinding his teeth together in a way that had to be painful. "You need to tell us if they hurt you." He was staring at the wall opposite him struggling to contain his misplaced anger.

"No. No, an old lady actually bought me to be her maid within the first week. She was really nice. And she loved my cooking." I finished on a cheery note, not really feeling like it.

"But, Liss, if you were with her, how did you end up.." he motioned to my wrist, obviously done playing my story exchange game.

"Alright," I sighed for the umpteenth time, "Edna passed away three months ago, and as soon as the mob got word they grabbed me up. I guess they were going to take me to a whore house or something but you two happened." I grabbed a hand from each twin smiling, "Thank you." before they would speak I had to say "did you, by chance see a little silver cross? Those Russian thugs took it from me when they busted me up." They shook their heads looking like two sad puppies.

"Hey come on boys." I broke their thoughtful silence. "Don't be like this, it's over now, alright? I was super lucky anyway, Edna saved me then you guys saved me." I smiled.

"We're right fucking angels, we are." Connor mumbled grumpily where Murphy was still in some dangerous funk that he just glared at the table.

I held up my sketch proudly lifting Murphy's chin so he'd realize there was a world outside his skull, "I think you are." I discarded the paper in favor of Connor's slender hand. "What do you say, sourpuss?" I shook Murphy's chin playfully, "lets stop pouting and move on with the world." They nodded in unison, both a bit hesitant but their small smiles though broken were truthful.

I'm not sure why but their smiles had somehow managed to turn the atmosphere around the small table more intimate. I became very away of the places I was touching them. Murphy's warm arm barely grazed my back, my hand still situated on his scruffy patch of chin, my other hand atop Connor's managing to cover the truth with my palm. Both men seemed to notice the change as well tensing slightly mouths barely open like lions scenting the air.

That endangered feel I had been getting earlier returned tenfold and raged in the back of my mind. Really, who could hear that when a couple of deadly beasts were staring at you hungrily?

Believe me, the MacManus brothers were hungry. I'd seen their appetite before, but this, God there wouldn't be any of me left. None at all. Not with the way Lusty and Lustier had their eyes swooping over me like I was a buffet on discount night.

I eased my hands away from the two predator's open mouths sure they were equally as handsome as say a Greek Gods but that didn't mean I was ready to die an excruciatingly pleasure filled death under the writhing bodies of these two.

My body ran totally chilly, utterly frozen in place seeing the inevitable play out in both their eyes. They knew where this would head if one of us didn't speak up or break this damned trance. Rocco's thunderous snore cracked our imaginary lust bubble and I was back to normal. I was ashamed when my voice cracked while I excused myself to bed.

I lay in the borrowed bed nuzzling into the borrowed blanket while wearing borrowed clothes wondering just how long these two Irish princes were going to allow me to steal their life away.


End file.
